


late night secret gatherings

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Series: lexi’s season 8 fics [6]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Eavesdropping, F/M, Flirting, Late Night Conversations, Overprotective Oliver Queen, Post-Episode: s08e04 Present Tense, Semi-established SmoaknHawke, Sexual Tension, Sneaking Around, Sneaking Out, Sparring, post-8x04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 00:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: Post-8x04. Oliver catches Mia sneaking out of the apartment and follows her to find that she’s secretly meeting Connor in the bunker for stress relief in the form of training. What he witnesses between them is more than enough to cause his overprotective fatherly instincts to flare up.
Relationships: Connor Hawke/Mia Smoak, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Series: lexi’s season 8 fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538746
Comments: 22
Kudos: 269





	late night secret gatherings

**Author's Note:**

> for maya, because she loves smoaknhawke even more than me lol, and we both desperately want oliver to find out about mia and connor

Oliver startles awake with a silent yelp when a crash sounds through the apartment, yanking him out of his wistful dream about stargazing with Felicity and their kids. His heart hammering in his chest, he remains frozen in his awkward curled up position on the couch, listening intently as the adrenalin spiking in his blood prepares his body to leap up and fright. After a beat, the archer hears an irritated, muttered, “Frack,” whispered in a low female voice - and he instantly relaxes.

It’s Mia. For a fleeting second there, he thought that maybe it was Felicity. She’s the only person he knows that uses the word ‘frack’ as a swear word, after all; their daughter must have learned that from her. Felicity may not be living in the apartment with him, as she’s back in Bloomfield at their cabin with their baby girl, but their son and daughter from 2040 are here. Mia and William, who are full adults and vigilantes themselves, working as their own Team Arrow in the future, have been transported back in time to 2019, along with John’s future adopted son, Connor. That’s the reason Oliver’s sleeping on the couch; William is back in his old room, and Mia is staying in his and Felicity’s bedroom, as he refused to allow her to sleep on a camp bed, the floor, or their couch, which is pretty uncomfortable.

The past three days have been emotionally overwhelming. Oliver still can’t wrap his head around the fact that he’s actually spending time with his kids from the future. William adjusted remarkably quickly, but Mia has been slower, and much more cautious, approaching the situation. Oliver would say that she’s having an even more difficult time than him comprehending recent events. She’s been suffering some insomnia and nightmares, and pretending that she’s okay when really she’s struggling; he wants nothing more as her father to help her, but Mia’s shields are up and she’s avoiding having conversations that are too emotional or deep with him, obviously to try and protect her own feelings, given how conflicted they seem to be.

Oliver pretends to be asleep as he hears Mia faintly padding around the kitchen. He has the feeling that she might not react well if he reveals that she woke him up by what he suspects was her tripping over the coffee table; Mia reacts like him when she’s cornered or confronted, raising her hackles and bristling. He wonders if she’s coming to grab a midnight snack or something to drink, but then hears the jingling of keys.

Frowning, Oliver risks a quick glance over his shoulder, hoping that the darkness of the room hides his actions. Mia is swiping his set of house keys and fob for his Ducati from the counter. He doesn’t know what time it is, but it has to be the very early hours of the morning, judging by how black the sky is outside the windows. Is Mia sneaking out? If she is… why? Where is she going? (Can she even ride a motorbike? Is she legally allowed to drive? Does she have a license? He can’t stop that overprotective dad streak from flaring up in him).

Mia pauses on her way creeping to the door, texting on her cell phone while shrugging on her leather jacket. That causes Oliver to narrow his eyes in confusion and suspicion; Mia is going to meet somebody, and is coordinating that meet via text messages. She’s very quiet as she opens and closes the front door behind her, aggressively shushing the electronic locking system when it beeps.

As soon as she’s gone, Oliver springs from the couch to go and grab his own cell phone, bringing up the tracking app Felicity installed on it last year. He sighs in relief when he sees the red dot showing his daughter’s journey away from the apartment; all of the cell phones they gave to the future kids have GPS trackers installed that he and John can access. It appears as if Mia is heading towards the Glades, where the bunker is located.

Keeping a wary eye on the tracking app, Oliver quickly and quietly changes into civilian clothes, dressing in black to blend into the night. While he knows Mia can handle herself, he suspects that she might accidentally get herself into trouble. She’s far too like her father and mother in that regard - she attracts danger. Just because she can defend herself, doesn’t mean she doesn’t need back-up. Plus… Oliver is intrigued to know what his daughter is up to.

He checks on William hastily, relieved to see that his son is passed out, deeply asleep on his bed. William has always been a late riser, so as long as they’re back before at least nine in the morning, he’ll never know that Mia and Oliver left the apartment. 

The archer drives his and Felicity’s car, a simple black sedan, to the bunker, parking a block down and walking the rest of the way so he can sneak in. It’s easy for Oliver to slip inside one of the secret entrances and make his way to the atrium. Ducking down behind a counter in the medical bay, he narrows his eyes, observing his daughter carefully, who is curled up in her mother’s chair on the monitor platform, still texting. In Felicity’s old black jeans and red top, she’s the spitting image of her mom.

“Hi.”

Oliver barely holds back his flinch at the sudden voice, and Mia reacts instinctively by jumping to her feet, producing a throwing knife from somewhere hidden on her person and chucking it skillfully towards the intruder. She misses by a couple of inches, the blade soaring above the man’s right shoulder.

“Nice throw,” Connor says with a grin.

So this is who Mia is meeting at the bunker at 3am secretly.

Mia rolls her eyes, leaning against the railing as Connor joins her on the platform. “You know, one day you’re going to regret surprising me, because you won’t be able to duck out of the way of my knife in time.”

“You’re forgetting that I’ve trained with you for two years,” Connor replies, crossing his arms over his chest in such an imitation of John that it’s obvious he’s his son. “I know how accurate you are at knife throwing. You never miss your target, even if it's moving. You’re not trying to hit me when you throw him.” His tone grows teasing, his eyes sparkling. “It’s okay. I consider you throwing knives at me a sign of your fondness.”

To Oliver’s utter shock… Mia smiles at him. Sure, it’s more of a smirk than a smile, but he can see the tension leaking out of his daughter’s shoulders, and the ease at which she holds herself around Connor. She’s relaxed around him, willing to lower her protective emotional barriers. “Oh, really? You won’t mind if I throw another, then?”

Connor laughs. “C’mon, then. You called me here in the middle of the night for some stress relief. What are we doing?”

“Sparring.” Mia shrugs off jacket, draping it over Felicity’s chair, before beginning to stride down the steps over to the training mats. “I haven’t had the chance to kickbox for a while.”

“Oh, so _that_ kind of stress relief,” Connor responds, stripping off his shirt. Oliver’s eyes widen and he stares in disbelief and growing exasperation as Mia glances the half-naked man up and down appreciatively, throwing him a pair of kickboxing gloves.

“Did you really think I meant the other kind?” Mia raises an eyebrow at him. “Not exactly appropriate for the bunker. No way would we _stress relieve_ on the cot in the antechamber. I’ve heard enough horrifying stories from my no-brain-to-mouth filtered mom about how she and dad used that bed to want to set it alight.”

Snickering, Connor adds, “Yeah, sparring is much better than the other option, considering that our parents and the current team have access to the bunker. Without William here to lock it down, there would be the risk of being caught. Unless…” he shoots her a daring grin, “You enjoy that sort of thing.”

Oh my god. His daughter and John’s son have a _thing_ in the future. The nature of said thing is not yet entirely clear to him, but it’s plain to see that Mia and Connor’s relationship isn’t platonic by any means. Oliver doesn’t know what to think or say. On one hand, Mia is his daughter and the idea of her dating or sleeping with anybody is disturbing to him. On the other, she’s an adult, he can’t tell her what to do or tell her who to date, and he would prefer her to be with John’s son rather than anybody else. Connor is a good man; polite and pleasant and willing to fight to protect Mia, no matter what. He is, essentially, the ideal boyfriend for her. Oliver is just having trouble grasping the concept of his daughter being romantically involved with somebody - especially since this time’s version of his daughter is currently three months old.

In response to Connor’s comment, Mia aims a high kick at his head, her movement lithe and agile, as if the move doesn’t take any effort. Connor blocks it effectively and complains, “Hey, at least take your shoes off!”

Mia smirks at him again before slipping off her shoes and socks, grabbing him by the hand to tug him onto the training mats. Connor offers her a pair of boxing gloves, but she shakes her head and wraps her hands with tape instead, tying her long blonde hair up into a bun. Although his position is causing the muscles in his legs to ache, Oliver stays crouched behind one of the medical gurneys so he can watch them. The two kids begin what appears to be an already pre-thought out set, Mia alternating between kicking and boxing, with Connor blocking each of her strikes and providing her a deflective surface to work off. The archer is impressed; the pair work well together, reading each other’s body language and anticipating their moves.

“How’s it going with your dad?” Mia asks, breathless, as one of her blows at Connor’s head is pushed down.

“Good,” Connor replies shortly. It doesn’t seem as if he’s trying to be deliberately evasive though. His answer is one word because he doesn’t need to say much more. He’s very like John in that regard. “How’s it going with yours?”

Mia releases a sigh of frustration and resignation, aiming a kick which is quickly parried. “As well as can be expected. We’re starting to get somewhere but it’s still… awkward.”

“Give it time,” Connor advises. “Things will pick up as you get to know each other.”

“That’s the problem,” Mia grits out, her next punch particularly vicious. She sends Connor reeling back a few steps, and shoots him an apologetic look. “I can’t ‘give it time’ because it’s limited. Dad dies in 2019, Connor. It’s November now - he’s going to be killed in the next two months. And we have no idea how long we’re going to be here for. Whatever or whoever brought us to 2019 could transport us back to 2040 at any time.”

Oliver’s heart _burns_. Is that why Mia is so hesitant to actually spend time with him? It’s not just that they’re practically strangers to each other, as Mia grew up without him, and she feels betrayed, so is wary about letting her guard down around him. Mia is scared of getting attached to her father, only to end up losing him. Closing his eyes, Oliver drops his head into his hands tiredly. Mia is right; he’s going to die soon. He’s going to leave her, William and Felicity behind, and his wife will have to raise their daughter without him, and his son will never see him again. 

And she’s also right about her, William and Connor being in 2019. They could vanish and be taken back to 2040 tomorrow. They’re always going to be on a clock, because they have no idea what the future holds, especially since it looks as if the future is being altered now. They’ll never get enough time together. 

Connor lowers his padded hands, forcing Mia to back up. “You can’t think like that,” he tells her gently. The tenderness of his tone, and his daughter’s reaction to it by her pained expression softening, astonishes Oliver. “If you’re continually worrying over events that have yet to happen, then you’re missing out on the here and now. You’re never going to bridge the gap between you and Oliver properly if all you think about when you’re with him is about losing him. Focus spending time with your dad in the present, rather than what the future has in store for him.”

“It’s not that easy.” Mia lowers her gaze dejectedly.

Before Oliver can even process what’s going on, Connor has closed the space between them and his tilting Mia’s chin up so she’s forced to meet his eyes. Oliver finds himself wondering if he and Felicity ever gave out waves of sexual tension like this around John, because it’s infuriating to watch. His legs tremble beneath him as he itches to stand and separate them; they linger in that position for a good five seconds, looking as if they’re a single heartbeat away from kissing.

“I promise you, it’s a lot easier than it seems,” Connor tells her. “Your brother had the right idea by starting with engaging in conversations. He and your dad reconnected in less than a day by simply talking.”

“But they have things to talk about,” Mia protests. “They had a relationship before all of this, before Dad died. I was a baby when we lost him. I couldn’t even talk, I don’t have any memories of him. What are we meant to talk about - Dad changing my diapers?”

“You talk about what you have in common,” Connor suggests. “You’re way more alike than you think. You can talk about your martial arts training, maybe even train together. William and your mom are good topics to discuss; you love them, and I bet you both have funny stories you can tell each other about them. I’m sure your dad would like to know about your personal life, as well.”

Mia wrinkles her nose in distaste, looking eerily like Felicity does whenever Oliver says or does something she doesn’t like. “As long as he doesn’t interrogate me about my love life.” Oliver huffs silently to himself; oh yeah, he has a _lot_ of questions about that now. Connor snorts in amusement. “Oh, come on, you know that’s going to be a nightmare. Has John asked about _your_ love life yet?”

“Thankfully not,” Connor replies dryly.

“William has no qualms talking about his ex-boyfriends, so hopefully Dad will concentrate on him rather than me.”

“You don’t have any ex-boyfriends,” Connor quirks an eyebrow.

“It’s not my exes I’m worried he’ll ask me about, it’s my current relationship status.” Mia starts up their sparring session again, raining blows down onto Connor’s gloves. “What am I meant to say?”

“I don’t know. What do you want to say?”

“You’re so annoying,” Mia scowls half-heartedly, feigning a jab at his arm just so she can box him with the head with her other hand. “You know, I still haven’t forgiven you for lying to me repeatedly since we met. I know you were trying to protect me and all, but lying about who you are and why exactly you were so obsessed with me is crossing a line.”

“I wasn’t obsessed with you.”

“Really? You insisted on walking me home after every cage fight. You asked me out for drinks more times than I can count. And then there’s what we did when you _did_ take me home after we got drinks…”

Does Oliver feel nauseous at the thought of his daughter having sex? Yes, yes he does.

“You’re the one who kept on asking me to come watch your fights in the first place,” Connor teases. “You enjoyed fighting men three times your size in front of me.”

“I still do.”

Oliver jolts when Mia suddenly hooks her leg behind Connor’s knee and yanks it out from beneath him, sending him tumbling down onto the mats. She’s wrestled him onto his back and is sitting atop him triumphantly, knees braces either side of his bare chest and hands pinning his wrists above his head, within seconds. Oliver covers his mouth with his palm to muffle the enraged squeak he releases at the very, _very_ suggestive position his daughter is in on top of John’s son. What’s worse is that Mia is peering down at Connor lewdly and Connor does not look as if he minds it at all.

“I enjoy fighting you more,” Mia purrs.

Oh god, oh god, no, Oliver is _not_ watching this, he _refuses_ to watch this. That’s his _daughter_. Watching and listening to her flirt with a guy was enough to make him lose his mind, but seeing _this?_ The weird foreplay the two of them have got going, DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF HIM, that is… too much. Far too much. He’s about to stand and announce his presence with a furious yell for Mia to get off Connor when a cell phone chimes. It’s not his, thank god, so it doesn’t give away his hiding spot. It is, however, Connor’s.

“You gonna release my hands so I can get that?” Connor says, his voice deep. Oliver is going to give this kid a _talking_ to later on, for sure. He’s going to deliver the shovel talk of his life to John’s son. And then he’s going to tell John that Connor is involved with Mia so that John himself can give his son another shovel talk.

“Way to break the mood.” Mia rolls off Connor to sit beside him cross-legged, appearing irritated at the interruption. Oliver is thanking all that is of heaven and holy that the cell phone decided to go off at that very moment, because he might have suffered a break down if he saw his daughter kissing Connor.

Connor checks his phone. “It’s my dad. He wants to know where I am.”

“It’s four in the morning,” Mia says incredulously.

“I’m telling you, parents have this strange sixth sense for when their kids are up to something without them knowing.” Connor heaves himself to his feet.

Mia remains on the floor, peering up at him. “What are you going to tell him?”

Connor shrugs, pulling back on his t-shirt. Oliver pretends for the sake of his own psyche not to see the faint disappointed look on his daughter’s face. “Woke up, couldn’t get back to sleep, went for a run and a work-out in the bunker. What are you going to tell _your_ dad when he figures you snuck out?”

“Same thing.”

Oliver has to begrudgingly accept that it’s a good cover, mostly because it’s the truth. Mia did come down here for some stress relief in the form of a work-out… omitting the detail that her work-out was sparring with Connor isn’t technically lying.

“I’ve got to go,” Connor says apologetically. “Sorry it was such a short session. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mia finally stands, allowing Connor to help her up by offering a hand. “Thanks for coming out here at such a stupid hour. And, um…” She tucks a stray lock of hair that’s fallen out of her bun behind her ear almost shyly. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime,” Connor smiles. His phone pings again, triggering him to wince. “Yeah, I’ve really gotta get home. Bye, Mia.”

Oliver waits until Connor has departed and Mia is cleaning up the training area, throwing a towel over her shoulder as she prepares to head to the showers, before deciding that he should reveal himself. While those overprotective feelings have welled up inside of him, making him twitchy about the concept of Mia and Connor being together, he also can’t help but be glad that his daughter has somebody she can trust by her side, just how Oliver had Felicity to support him throughout his crusade as the Green Arrow. If Mia and Connor truly love each other - and given by the longing, adoring looks they were sending each other, they do - then that love will make them stronger, and their bond out in the field will give them something to fight for. 

Oliver manages to make it past the platform before he clears his throat to announce his presence, causing Mia to lose her balance from shock and end up wielding the broom she’s using at him like a weapon. Upon seeing her father, Mia’s eyes widen until they’re as round as plates in surprise.

“Dad,” she says, her voice high and strained. “Hi.”

Oliver takes the broom from her to finish sweeping. “Good sparring session with Connor?” he asks in a falsely indifferent tone.

Mia immediately flushes pink from embarrassment and panic at having been caught out. “How long have you been here?” she whispers. When Oliver just turns and answers with a simple raised eyebrow, her rosy cheeks turn red. “Oh my god.”

A tense silence falls between them. Once Oliver is finished sweeping, he props the broom up against the wall and glances over at his daughter, who looks like she’s on the verge of having an anxiety attack, watching him cautiously. “Does he make you happy?” he asks quietly.

“Connor and I aren’t like that,” Mia immediately responds. “We’re - it’s more casual than anything else, it’s not…” She trails off and swallows, ducking her head sheepishly when Oliver casts her a pointed, knowing look, calling her out on her lie without needing to say any words. He knows that she knows he observed her and Connor’s entire interaction while they were sparring. 

“Does he make you happy?” the archer repeats. Because that’s all he cares about. If Connor makes Mia happy… there’s nothing more he could wish for.

Mia’s reply is meek. “Yes.”

Oliver scrutinizes her expression for a moment, trying to work out if she’s telling the truth. Mia’s tone is honest and she does appear to be genuinely abashed. “Okay then.” He smiles at her warmly, picking up the kickboxing gloves Connor abandoned on the side and slipping them on. “Want to go for another ten minutes before your shower?”

She nods eagerly. Oliver suspects that she would agree to anything he suggests, as long as she doesn’t have to keep talking about her love life. The two of them begin sparring, Mia starting off tentatively but increasing the strength of her kicks and hits when she realizes that her dad isn’t going to be bowled over by her power.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“I know you have a lot of questions,” Mia says, offering him a small smile. “About the future, about me… and I’ll answer them. I just have two requests.”

Oliver tilts his head. “Oh, just two?” he jokes.

“Number one, you don’t ask if Connor and I are being safe. Ever. Please. I don’t think I would survive the embarrassment. And number two… when you give Connor the ‘if you hurt my daughter, I’ll break you’ talk, please don’t shoot him with arrows.”

“The first one I can do,” Oliver agrees hurriedly, because he truly has no interest in his daughter’s sexual endeavors and thinks he might throw up asking about them. “The second one… no promises.”

“_Dad!_”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed!!! please leave kudos and i would really appreciate a comment xx
> 
> twitter: @lexiblackbriar  
tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13


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